Incantation
by Panzer718
Summary: Can one man's sacrifice be enough to bring about another woman's happiness? Can love be earned through steadfast conviction and unyielding devotions?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I was royally pissed off after reading chapter 133 of the manga(spoiler warning! if you haven't, go read it first!) Oh! Great was basically setting Masataka up for failure. ARGH! I am steaming up just thinking about it. Huge thank to DarkSacredJewelXoX for editing this chapter into something readable – Beta read by DarkSacredJewelXoX.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tenjou Tenge in any way or form.

Recommendation: For best viewing pleasure, set your width to ½.

Chapter 1

The cool autumn breeze brought the scent of cherry blossoms from the tsukiyama garden outside. Aya savored the aroma; her breathing was calm and steady. Even with the eyes closed she could paint a vivid mental picture of her surroundings in the dojo. The opened shoji doors, the encased shrine, ancient scrolls that was past down through generations, the textures of the wooden floorboard and even the individual floundering cherry blossom petals. Her senses could pickup anything around her more acutely than if she were to look at it - without the use of her Dragon's Eyes, an aptitude she acquired during her training pilgrimage with-

Her heart stuttered at the thought of the man, and the pain caused her breath to hitch. Her nose started to clog and the brimming tears stung her eyes. Guilt and regret shored up like rushing tide and threatened to engulf her whole. Her grip on the pommel of the odachi was so tight that the jewel trinkets on the scabbard were rattling slightly. Drawing a quick breath, she willed the grief to abate and before she exhaled; the blade glinted in the afternoon sun and arced through the air. Her frame rose to follow the sharp edges, her long tresses and the stylish kendo uniform danced in pursuit. As the sword and the flesh waltzed in perfect synchronicity she felt a faint presence, a ghostly whisper, an ever-fading reminiscence of what was and what could have been.

"Aya-chan," she heard Takayanagi-senpai calling out after her.

"Yes?" Aya glanced back; her heart still throbbed at her own revelation: how much she depended on the Senpai's resolve and fortitude.

Senpai stopped a few paces away from her. "I want to become strong together with you," his hazel eyes gazed at her unflinchingly. "I love you."

She blinked and her mind went blank. She vaguely remembered that her hand came up and grabbed hold of the straps on her school bag as if to hold on for dear life. A gentle breeze came over them from the sea and she didn't even have the right mind to keep her long hair from obscure his features from her view.

She had the greatest admiration for the man standing before her, he who possessed no Dragon Gate power, who was not blight by the revolving curse of the Thousand Year War, who could have carry on with his life unhindered by all the miseries and torments brought on by the Wheels of Fate, plunged himself head first into the midst of unimaginable nightmare and became one of her most trusted comrades and a pillar of strength to combat Kago Shohaku's menacing reign.

To her Takayanagi-senpai was a kindhearted person. He was always there for everyone in the time of their needs. Never once did she thought of his kindness as sentimental or even affectionate, even when she was at her most vulnerable he made no mention of any sort of affections...until now. This placed her in the most awkward setting, how could she possibly explain the red string of destiny that bind her and Souichiro-sama throughout the entire conflict, that their destinies were as entwined as the weaving threads in the loom of time, but she respected him too much to lead him in any other way except the truth...

"Ah...eh, Aya-chan?"

Takayanagi-senpai's timid voice snapped her out of her reveries. When her eyes finally refocused on her upperclassman, his cheek were flush red with embarrassed or was it…disheartened?

"Ah...eh...it's fine Aya-chan." Senpai's hands flopped wildly in front of him, he was looking everywhere except at her. "I don't expect an answer from you-I..I sort of knew what it would be...ugh," he sighed in defeat but then broke into a boyish smile. "I just felt that I owe it to myself to say it."

He said it with such earnestnessthat she felt both privileged and mortified at the same time. "Why...senpai?" She really didn't know what else to say, but she finally got to her senses and brushed her curls behind her ear.

Masataka shrugged good-naturally, an easy smile appeared across his features. "Because it's you…anyways," he tussled her hair playfully, "it's late, I'll see you tomorrow at the tournament bright and early, okay?" And with those words her most respected upperclassman left her standing in the dusk of the setting sun.

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As expected they crushed the First Kendo Club in an overwhelming display of prowess. Just like Bob on the previous day, Aya alone defeated the contingent of five from the opposition team with elegant ease. Throughout the fight Takayanagi-senpai cheered her on just as loudly as everyone else, yesterday's event notwithstanding. For that she was grateful and because of the injuries the Enforcement Group suffered from an unsanctioned fight, their forfeiture became involuntary and the Juken Club officially became the new Enforcement Group at the Toudo Academy.

In a move that surprised everyone including Aya herself, Takayanagi-senpai declined, however respectfully, to her sister - Maya's edict to become the new team captain at the handoff ceremony. Instead he nominated and passed the Enforcement Group banner to Bob and announced his resignation from the Club as well as his inclination to withdraw from the Academy.

"It's time that I stand on my own," he said as in way of explanation. "I've been relying on all of you for far too long." He offered a deep and respectful bow to the entire club members and left the podium with the entire student body gaping in stunned blathering. Aya couldn't look at him throughout the entire exchange but she went after him anyway. She caught him just outside the stairwell. "Senpai..." Her steps faltered, she didn't know how to broach the subject, but she also didn't want what transpired yesterday to be the cause of him leaving.

"Aya-chan?" Takayanagi-senpai looked genuinely surprised when he turned to the sound of her footsteps. "What's the matter? Is everything alright?" He rushed over to her, his brows creased with consternation.

"Senpai..." she tried but soon trailed off. What right did she have to ask him to stay? She couldn't return his feelings and yet she needed his strength to help set Souichiro-sama free, but what could she tell him? _By the way Senpai although I can't reciprocate your feelings I need you to stay where you are and risk you life for us_. The thought made her wanted to be sick. When did she became so awful-

"Aya!" Takayanagi-senpai's hand gave her a solid jolt on the shoulder. "What is going on? " He was looking very concern now. "Are you not feeling well? Let's get you to the infirmary-"

"Was it because of me?" she blurted out, "Are you leaving because of me?"

Senpai turned toward her when she started to speak but recoiled back in shock upon hearing her words.

"No, absolutely not!" Senpai's eyes widened with shock, but his tone was firm. He placed both hand on her shoulder. "You wouldn't think that I am doing this because of yesterday..." he voice suddenly trailed off, his eyes lost focus briefly. Then the realization hit with full force. "Oh..." His cheeks tinged with redness but he regained his composure quickly. "Aya, please believe me, what happen yesterday had no bearing what so ever with the decision that I've made earlier, none!"

She gazed into his unwavering eyes searching for any signs of pretense and for the briefest moment realized how calm and incredibly clear they were. She could help but ask, "Truly?"

"Of course!" His hold on her shoulder tightened buthe let go a moment later like it was burned, realizing how inappropriate it was and turn his back to her. "Look," he sighed - in relief? One hand rubbing his forehead, "I can't say I fully understand your...feelings for Nagi, but it was precisely that loyalty and devotion that I fell-" he came to an abrupt halt, bewilderment written across his face at his own slip.

Aya caught the underlying insinuation and her face was beginning to turn hot.

Takayanagi-senpai cleared his throat. "I realized that although my physical endurance and techniques were progressing but my mind set was not. I became complacent knowing that I was surrounded by friends and that will not always be the case...ugh," his features twisted in dismay. "I didn't mean it that way." He buried his face in his hand.

"May I come with you?" She found herself smiling at his apparent blunder, the dismal feeling from earlier lifting from his profession. It wasn't her original intent but this would have to do.

"What?" His face shot up and his jaw slacked.

"You are too sly, Senpai!" Aya teased him with mock testiness.

"Why-how-when..." the man was so tongue tied that he couldn't form a complete sentence.

"Was that your idea of _becoming strong together?_ By leaving me in the dust?" She pouted.

He was in a terrible fluster. "Ah...I...no-I mean-"

"But if you let me come alone then maybe I'll let this one slide." She crossed her arms, glaring at him with as much spite as she could muster without breaking into laughter.

They both burst out laughing; the uneasiness sizzled into thin air. In the end Takayanagi-senpai told her, "I couldn't have found a better training partner than you."

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With the destruction of the Takayanagi Tower in the city, all salvageable assets were being moved to the research facility in Kyoto including the people that were killed and resurrected by Susano, Kago, and Nagi. Over there they got more than they bargained for. Tawara-san alone dealt out enough punishment that both the Senpai and herself had to be hospitalized after every "session". Coupled with the Kabane siblings they really had their work cut out for them. Along the way, Senpai's brother would join the fray along with Nee-sama as well as the gang from school for was later dubbed as the "Mortal Combat".

Four months into their training, they were able to fight Tawara-san to a stalemate. Two months after that no one at the research facility were able to oppose them in the bout.

At Tawara-san's suggestion, they took their training on the road. According to the chip that Takayanagi-senpai safeguarded, it contained locations of people that possessed special power. If they were able to persuade enough of them to join their cause not only would they hinder Susano's prowess, they would also be able to choose the location and hopefully the time of the final confrontation.

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It was a perilous undertaking. It would have been far more easier if their mission was to capture those people, but persuasion required time and in most cases they had to resort to a duel or submission by force and more often then not, they found only battered bodies and mingled corpses. Their goal and Susano's were one of the same and yet completely different. She and Senpai tried to preserve life while Susano attempted to end all.

The law of probability ensured their eventual encounter with Susano on the course of their assignment and they didboth times a near brush with death. Only by Souichiro-sama's timely intervention did they escape with their lives. Three years after they stumbled upon the Demon God once more on an assignment overseas. It was a particular brutal battle, their subject was killed outright before their eyes, but this timethey were no pushovers. Their tempo matched Susano's on equal footing that nightto the point of inflicting a devastating blow that forced Susano to withdraw.

"Why didn't you finish it?" Aya asked him in a whisper when she was bandaging his bloodied arm back at the safe house.

His eyes darted away; his features fell. He knew what she was referring to: the final blow that he landed, if he wanted to, all their suffering would be over. After a long moment of silence he finally spoke, "We were not ready-I...I was not ready, yet."

"Why didn't you do it..." her voice quivered. "You should have done it!" Her voice beganrising, a rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins. "Every minute Souichiro-sama stays in that body is a minute he suffers in agony, why couldn't you see that!" she spat. "Or perhaps you enjoy our times together a little too much? I am sick and tired of watching him suffer just so his body wouldn't kill us ought right-" She threw the bandages and the fasteners at him in rage. "You do that again and I'll find a way to set him free without you!" With that she stormed out of the room.

The image of him hunched over, all bruised and bloodied, worn and exhausted prior to the door clicking shut brought her trotting back to the door in less then a minute. Aya knew before she slammed the door behind her that she was more angry at herself than at him. Her inability to augment for him at the direst moment led to the current train of disappointment. She knewfrom the bottom of her heart how hard Senpai impaled himself during the intervening years of their journey. How, day after day, fight after fight, he dragged his pain infused and battered body tirelessly to the next set of training regime. She could not have ask for a more consummated comrade for their endeavor and here she was incriminating him for her incompetence.

She recalled that one night during one of his rigorous training regimes, half way through completing a strike form he collapsed suddenly. She rushed over to his side sheer exhaustion haunted his countenance. Wheezing forcefully, he was still trying to get up.

"That's enough Senpai, please, no more," she pleaded supporting him the best way she could.

Using her body as leverage, Takayanagi-senpai got up to unsteady feet, still leaning heavily onto her shoulder. "It never..." he panted,"will be...enough...not-not until I have Nagi standing right next to you."

That was when she knew the magnitude of his commitment to her.

When Aya opened the door, he was still at the same disarray she left him with: head sagged between the shoulders, blackening bruises and angry welts strewn across his bare flesh. The unfinished dressings were once again soaked red with blood.

Swallowing the lump in her throat she sat down quietly behind him and started to undo the soaked gauze, but the tears of shame came without warning and blurred her vision and her hands were shaking with remorse.

"Aya-" Whatever Takayanagi-senpai was about to say was cut short by her arms enfolding him into an embrace, her frame conformed to his back and her cheek flushed against his flesh.

"I am sorry," she croaked, the tears wouldn't stop coming. "I'm so-" she gulped down another gut wrenching sob, finally realizing the enormity of her false accusation. "...sorry. I didn't mean it...I-" She felt one of his hands laced through hers and her cry doubled. Words were inadequate to express her feelings so she held onto him and wept, begging for the forgiveness that she knew was already granted to her.

Neither one ever mentioned the incident again, but from time to time particularly after some harrowing battles they would trust the feat of their boundaries and draw strength from each other's embrace and it was through that warmth and comfort did she realize just how significant Takayanagi-senpai was to her.

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When all intelligence pointed to Susano's impending arrival back to Japan, they threw a party honoring their combined efforts as well as commemorating those who had fallen during the Thousand Year War.

She went and looked for Takayanagi-senpai when she noticed that he wasn't present at the party. He was sitting on one of the stone benches in the courtyard; his arms supported his reclining body, and stared up at the cloudless night bathed in moonlight. She trotted up to him wordlessly, stopping just short of the bench. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, acknowledging her presence; both took pleasure in the comfortable silence.

"Have you thought about what you wanted to do...after?" His voice, low and alluring, flew into her consciousness. She too was mesmerized by the enchanting moonlight. She alsoknew exactly what he meant by "after."

"No," she whispered, her sight lost in the pale light. "I have not."

She felt rather than saw his smile forming at his lips. "Why are you smiling?" She glared at him with annoyance; he had been doing a lot of that lately.

His smile turned mischievous. "I see a person in your future..." he leered at her, "and he shall become your husband-"

"Senpai!" she scolded at him halfheartedly.

"I am not fooling around, the moon fairy had told me," he said matter-of-factly.

She rolled her eyes; she couldn't believe that Senpai would choose this moment to be playful. "Have I by chance met this prince charming of mine just yet?" For reasons that eluded her she was actually playing along.

Takayanagi-senpai pursed his lips, contemplating. "Hmm...now that I come to think about it, you actually might have...hmm, how interesting." His index finger tapped on his cheek thoughtfully. The gesture brought smile to her face, her earlier anxieties dwindling. "But one thing I am sure of, she told me-" he began.

"She?" She feigned ignorance.

"The moon fairy," he threw daggers at her with his eyes. "She told me that you'll meet him again tomorrow."

Her feature froze in place, the smile that was there just moments ago evaporated into the cold night air. "That's not fair..." she rasped.

He was unfazed. "The moon fairy doesn't lie, nor do I." His playful smirk was gone. His golden irises stared back at her with unwavering determination.

She hesitated for a moment but move to sit right next to him their fingers almost touching. "What would happen tomorrow Senpai?" she whispered. Her eyes fixed on one of the stone slates beneath her feet.

"The end of the Thousand Year War. the demise of Kago Shohaku, and the reclamation of Nagi Souichiro," he paused, her eyes came up and met his steady gaze. "And the dawn of your happiness." His face broke into a huge grin.

Aya couldn't help but smile back at him. She didn't know who move first, but their fingers laced as one; both turned their gaze to the white light above, waiting for the morning to come.

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The final confrontation raged on for the entire day. The whole research facility was reduced to nothing but rubble. Blood was spilled on every square meter of this once placid institute. Nee-sama did her best to nullify the demonic power rampaging inside Susano but it still wasn't enough. More than half of their numbers fell within minutes of the commencement. The rest fought on, some went in by pairs, others in mass but they were all trounced by Susano's staggering domination.

Then the tide of the battle started to shift. It began with Bob-kun who unleashed a torrential barrage of attacks. One of his swiping kicks knocked Susano flat to the ground. Although Bob-kun was swept aside by the time Susano got up that seemed to unnerve the Demon God. Then came the combination assaults from Tawara-san and Takayanagi-san. Even though they did not last as long as Bob the damages they inflicted on Susano were far more severe.

At last, only Takayanagi-senpai and herself were standing between him and Maya nee-sama whose Amaterasu Gate was what Susano needed to crack the passage to Hell wide open.

Moments before they hurled themselves into the den of Armageddon her eyes inadvertently sought for his. When they met she recognized the fear, the uncertainty, the hopelessness and the regret that was probably a perfect mirror of her own, but then it was quickly dispelled. Instead a staunch resolve took its place and with it he led her into battle.

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Standing behind a pillar, Maya watched her younger sister performed her battle ritual. And just like how she was now, Maya reflected, recalling the event of that fateful day. She watched on helplessly, vulnerable and exposed as her comrades fell to the hands of the Demon God one by one while she was stillholding onto the last reserve of her Ki and her sanity trying to contain the vile monstrosities from spilling into their world. Only after even the formidable Bunshichi and Mitsuomi fell victim to the might of the sprouting evil did she realized that the end was near.

When Aya and Masataka's assault commenced, it was the most concerted effort she had ever witnessed. It was like watching an extraordinary performance of ballet only this one was more deadly and much more desperate. Their limbs would crisscross but never touch. Their figures would whirl but never tangle. Her blade would slash at an opening he fostered by parrying an attack. His knuckles would pummel their enemy when her block presented an opportunity.

Maya was captivated by such display of coherency by the two warriors. Even on their best terms she and Mitsuomi wouldn't even come close to the amount of damage they were dishing out and in such synchronicity. Just when the victory seemed certain, her knees buckled and the last of her remaining Ki had been exhausted.

With a thunderous roar, Susano discharged an influx of Ki as the suppressed demonic power was unleash, knocking back the two attacking fighters. Then in an blink of an eye it flashed before Masataka who was barely able to parry in time for a strike that sent him reeling back in pain. More followed, each blow sent the younger Takayanagi stumbling back further, and blood splattered into the air. Its arm drew back, ready to deliver the final strike...

"Souichiro-sama!"

Aya leapt high above the Demon God, her otachi coming down with blistering swiftness. The afterglow of her Ki suffused into the blade arched through the night air, into the back of the man that she loved with all her heart.

Susano howled in pain, black mist gushing out from its open wound,but that didn't stop a lightning fast backhand that shattered the sword and sent shrapnel flying into her younger sister. Maya heard the faint whimper and a pink mist from the exit wounds as Aya stumbled backward. The wounded demon reversed direction and went after its fresh attacker but before it could reach Aya, Masataka stormed in and kneed it on the back of the head with a tremendous hit, sending the Demon crashing into the ground.

The young Takayanagi paused by Aya's prone form only briefly before lunging toward the now standing Susano.

"Nagi Souichiro!" Masataka screamed on the top of his lungs. "You spineless coward!" He leapt into the air landing three kicks in rapid succession on its face; he barely touched down, delivering a powerful flying back kick followed by a combination reverse roundhouse/heel kick, toppling the demon. The darkening mist was getting more dense with each successive decimation.

It was not yet the end. Susano retaliated with series of powerful punches, every one a certain life-ending strike, missing by a hair every time from its intended target, but that did not dissuade Masataka with his furious retort. "With all the elegant blather about destroying the Wheel of Destiny you cowered in fear under Susano's influence-" dodging a near miss over his head, part of his bangs were cleaved clean off showering both with splinters. He continued. "Where is that arrogant freshman that wants to beat me up now? Where is that cocky bastard that wishes to change his own fate? Come out and fight me as a yourself, Nagi Souichiro!"

Maya breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to creep over and found Aya still breathing, however weakly. Then the approaching clamor caused her to look up.

It was a brutal slugging feast. The two figures traded punches and kicks without any form or style. Like two wounded beasts fighting with their dying breath to whatever bitter end that awaited them and just as quickly the black smolder that shrouded them like a cloak disappeared. Susano...no, it wasn't, the sigil of the Death God was strangely absent. Instead, beads of sweat and tresses of curls pasted on his pale skin. The red glows of crimson radiating from the eyes earlier had also disappeared.

"Do...it...sen...pai..." a voice uttered weakly.

"Finish it, Takayanagi!" Maya cried after the men with their backs to her. She cradled Aya's unconscious form closer, waiting for the inevitable.

Everything went into slow motion.

The young disciple took a step forward, the ground in which it landed cracked and caved under the intense stress. His left shoulder drew back, the elbow lowered, ready to deliver the finishing blow with an uppercut. The expected bone crashing sound never came. The dark essence of the Death God surged upward from Nagi's collapsing form and pierced into the body of Masaka Takayanagi.

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When she came to, something heavy had just landed beside her in a loud thud.

"Souichiro-sama," she exclaimed. She would recognize him anywhere even with the long hair. Although his face was marred with cuts and bruises, he looked peaceful in slumber. Aya instinctively pulled him into her embrace, looking for signs of major trauma.

"No." She heard a ghostly whimper beside her.

She followed the sound of the voice and before she saw who it was, a figure caught her eye instead.

Takayanagi-senpai stood unmoving, eyes stared in wonderment as the black mist swirled around his hands and forearms. His once handsome face was puffy and swollen, a vicious cut on his eyebrow bleeding into his swollen shut left eye. Bruises were already forming on his expose flesh. His hair was snarled and caked in blood. His gaze lifted and their eyes met. A smile began to form on his bloodied lips.

"We win, Aya," he rasped weakly, but his smile grew. The revolting mist pooled beneath his feet. His eyes strayed to their conjoint hands, a look of sheer contentment spread across his features.

"Find true happiness now, okay?"

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Maya's eyes widened even further. She watched in horror as Kago's evil essence swarmed over the young Takayanagi, who did not put up even the slightest resistance. The reason was not clear to her and that made her eyes burn, Masataka's reservation baffled her. Being one of the stronger combatants in the group, he held back from direct confrontation with Susano right from the beginning. He provided only enough intervention when fellow comrades' lives were in mortal danger. His goal was to spare Nagi's life all along, knowing full well that once the vassel suffered enough trauma it would have to seek a new host and he made sure that he was the last one standing for what was to come. She watched on with solemn eyes and Masataka's eyelids fluttered close for she believed to be the last time and with Aya's disjointing sob in the background.

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Her vision blurred, his reluctance finally dawned on her. Aya heard a voice not of her own called out to this man, broken and sniveling as his hand raised over his heart and the manifestation of the most concentrated Ki she had ever witness.

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Maya's heart stuttered when Masataka released the built up Ki. From her vantage point his hand suddenly jerked away from his chest and the blast stream seemingly shot through his head. He stood froze in shock, his eyes wild with disbelief and before anyone could make a sound, his scream pierced through the night.

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Senpai was spewing blood and grunting in agony. Dark veins bulged and swelled from his arms, chest, neck and onto his cheeks and temples. His body went into a violent spasm in which he doubled over and coughed up more blood. Aya was up and running toward him before his knees hit the ground.

"Not a step closer!" He stopped her in the tracks a few feet away, his bloody palm shivered in the air. The hand slowly balled into a fist as he attempted to stand but faltered. Aya took a step forward-

The Ki burst shoved her backward, his fingers twisted in pain. "Stay...back..." he seethed through clenched teeth.

More tears came. His bloodshot eyes were begging for her to stay where she was. The words of encouragement that he offered yesterday now sounded like the vilest curse. All the trainings that he had gone through, all the pains that he had suffered, the loneliness that he had to endure and even the future that he had promised. All at his expense.

"Senpai-"

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Masataka drove Aya back with another Ki blast, knocking her down. He then half crawled, half stumbled over to where she and Nagi were, his shivering hand hovered above her chest, over where the Amaterasu Gate was. She slumped over Nagi's prone form when nausea hit with full force as the Gate was absorbed. Her hazy eyesight trailed overhis silhouette back to a clearing; moments later a brilliant radiance blinded her completely, followed by Aya's horror-stricken shriek-

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The sound of Aya's otachi hitting the wooden floorboard rocked her out of her reveries. Maya was moving before she realized it and was next to Aya in an instant.

Her younger sister cradled the side of her arm; blood was seeping through her fingers staining her sleeve. Her breaths were uneven, eyes were closed, and sweat dotted her features. Maya healed the deep laceration with her carefully conserved Ki and noticed that Aya was biting down on her lips hard enough to draw blood.

"What's wrong?" she prodded gently.

Aya merely shook her head; her eyes remained closed. She pried those soiled fingers off to check the wound when Aya croaked, "I miss him."

Maya's movement froze for a moment then resumed. "We all did." She knew exactly whom she was referring to.

Her lashes fluttered open and the sorrow within almost made her avert her eyes. "It has been two years..." she trailed off.

_Three._

"We will find him," Maya soothed not certain if she was trying to convince her or herself. "Come on," she prompted gently. "The brat is coming over in a little bit." The mention of Nagi got Aya's attention. "The appointment is at six-thirty. It took Mitsuomi a week for book this for you guys, don't screw this one up."

Aya smiled back but it didn't reach her eyes. She was going for her sword when Maya stopped her.

"Go get change already, I'll take care of your mess."

Aya nodded her thanks and trotted out of the room. Maya's eyes followed her out and then returned to the bloody stain on the blade.

_Where are you, Takayanagi Masataka?_

_..._

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Needless to say the Final Fight was nothing more than a giant disappointment, at least for me. Maya's sacrifice was totally uncalled for and unnecessary. Not to mention that my beloved Masataka was defaced and violated. Great many thanks to DeadShaggy for helping me editing this chapter. There are also vocabulary/translations available at the bottom of the page for your reference. Well, enough rant, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tenjou Tenge in any way or form.

Recommendation: For best viewing pleasure, set your width to ½.

Chapter 2

A light and gentle humming brought his senses drifting slowly back to him. He felt decidedly...pleasant. The usual aches and soreness that he typically associated with waking up were strangely absent. He sighed with contentment, wanting to enjoy the moment for as long as he could-

"Masataka-sama?" He heard her voice and instinctively clamped his eyelids harder. Being the only link to his past life, he cherished every moment of her visit. A curl began to form on his lips.

"Hello, Iyo-san, its been a while." He fought hard to keep his eyes close.

"Yes it has," her voice carried the same familiar giddiness. "I am fully clothed you know, Masataka-sama."

He peeked out of one eye just to be sure before he made a fool of himself - like so many times before. She was shaped in an simple dress with checkered apron tied around her slender waist, with her lilac tresses flew perfectly around her form, and not to mention the azure-color feather scarf that adorned her even in her starkness, looked just as beautiful as ever with that playful twinkles in her eyes. The same set of lavender hues that was granted to her at the Temple of Dark Resurrection... The mere thought threatened to bring painful memories that he had buried long ago. He blinked hard, willing the ghosts of his remembrance to past. Focusing, instead on the divine beauty that was standing before him.

"What?" He couldn't help but chuckle at her smirking countenance. "To what, do I owe the honor of this visit?" He found himself being prodded upright on something he didn't recognize right away but it was very, very soft.

Iyo's smile broadened, and she bounced with joy and plowed herself into his lap. He winced, and expected the pain from his old wound to shoot through his body but none came. Then he felt her words a breath away from his lips.

"You should've taken me as your bride back then," Iyo told him with a playful pout. Her face was so close to his that their nose almost touching. "But I have more patience than my sisters." Her hands came up and stroke through his hair seductively.

"You don't want a withering old man like me." He rolled his eyes with weariness. Masataka was very certain that the warmness that he felt on his cheeks were him blushing at her intimate gestures. Even after so many years, he was still at the mercy of her whim. His respect and admiration for her divinity kept him exactly where he was.

"Who says that you're an withering old man?" Her eyes sparkled.

Masataka's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. There was something in her tone that scared him so...

His body froze by trepidation. He leaned back just enough to see her widening grin; he hoped his own expression didn't show too much fright. Last time they bantered this playfully she and_ the Circle of Twelve Goddesses _led him to an odyssey that nearly ended his life-

_Or perhaps it did._

His eyes strayed away from hers and roamed around his surrounding. There was nothing but a warm white glow around them. Although she was nesting comfortably on his laps, he was only supported by the white...clouds?

"O...K..." he mouthed, contemplating. He really wasn't entirely surprised, he kind of knew the moment he saw the roaring Gate Keeper, that it would be his last sojourn with his pitiful chronicle in the Kingdom. He just hoped-

"What happened to my men!" he asked suddenly, his hand came up and held onto her with apprehension. Disjointing scenes of that horrible battle flashed before his eyes. Everything happened so quickly, he remembered charging the dragon after it broke trough the arena floor but he couldn't quite recall what happen afterward...

Her smile didn't fade. "Most of them lived to recount your legend – again."

His body slackened with relief, his head fell onto her shoulder. That was all that mattered, those brave men and women who followed him with dogged devotion making it back to their families. "Now what?" Masataka sighed; he didn't have the willpower or audacity to make any other sudden movement.

"This is rather insulting," Iyo scoffed at him, "you will only touch me knowing that you're dead."

He rolled his eyes, his forehead already missed the contact of her soft flesh, "Iyo-san-" but his words were silenced by her lips on his own.

He knew for sure that his face was scrawling in shock, his body reeled back and their lips broke apart with at loud "pop."

She didn't even look abashed; she's a Goddess for crying out loud. "This is not the end, but a new beginning." Her smile became infinitely brighter. "What my sisters endowed for you was out of their appreciation. What I am about to grant you was born out of love." Iyo bridged their gap and touched their lips lightly, "my love for you."

_Huh?_

He didn't have a chance to voice his question. All around him the warm glow shined even more brighter and then everything was blinded by white light.

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Aya woke with a start. Her ragged breaths were straining her chest, her soaked pajamas adhered to her skin uncomfortably. Her pounding heart pounded against her ribcage. It was the same nightmare that plagued her dreams on nights just like this one. A faceless man adorned in a scarred, tarnish armor soiled with blood and mud. No, not quite faceless. Wherever she was in, the upper ledge obscured the better half of the man's face, revealed only his battered lips and a portion of his bloody nose.

The man's lips curved into a thin smile...or was it a grimace? She couldn't be sure. But she would always remember what he said.

"Shiyawase-dayo."

The raspy whisper sounded so gentle and yet filled with grave desolation. A farewell bid by a person who did not expect to return.

His lips continued to move but she couldn't hear the rest of the words. Before she was engulf by a rosy luminescence, the man turned swiftly, his dark cape flopped damply to one side and disappeared from her view.

She breathed in deeply, attempted to still her pounding heart. The unsettling scene brought profound sadness to her every time she saw it, for reasons she could not fathom.

Next to her, a gentle stir drew her out of her reveries. And what she saw brought a small smile to her lips. Souichiro-sama was mumbling something indistinct, drooling all over his pillow while hugging it in between his legs.

Aya smirked and moved to comb a stray strand of hair out of his eye. He'd let his once short-cropped hair grow, to almost the same length as when she first met him back in Toudou Academy. But instead of the messy spikes that he used to adorn, he now fashioned it in layers, giving him a more sensible, mature look. Her eyes strayed back to his boyish visage. She teased him still, from time to time, when he acted too seriously or too over-protective of her. She really had no complaint. Ever since her recovery from the Battle, Souichiro had been very accommodating of her, to the point of obliging to her every whim and need. She was happy for that. Aya was keenly aware of the mutual feeling that Souichiro and her more mature sister shared, some of the most awkward moments that she walked in on them were a testament to that very fact.

She used to hold a very strong conviction that her encounter with Souichiro, was the eventual outcome of the centuries long struggle against the forces of evil between the two families. But recently, after the recovery, a swelling sentiment began gnawing at the back of her mind. That perhaps, knowing what Souichiro-sama really desired, she should look beyond herself and focus on the two people that were most dear to her instead. But her selfishness and uncertainty kept her on her current path.

Souichiro-sama had finally proposed to her last week, during an outing arranged by her sister at a lavish restaurant, where all their friends attended without her knowledge.

The moment his knee touched the glossy marble floor she knew what was coming, but that didn't stop the tear of joy and happiness from muddling her vision. At the urging of the cheerful crowd, she accepted the gorgeous engagement ring by extending her right hand. The dining hall erupted, with exhilaration when the band molded perfectly to her ring finger.

Aya examined the brilliant solitaire under the moonlight. The kaleidoscope of colors bathed her with its splendor. The tears came again, this time she was awash with shame and sorrow. She wiped at them angrily, both the understanding and the lack of reasons infuriated her. Moments later, she was able to calm herself enough to scoot close to Souichiro and descended into a fitful slumber.

xxxxxxxx

His eyes opened of their own accord. It was perhaps the most restful sleep he had ever gotten. By the time the comfortable tingles to his head and the blurriness from his vision faded away he found himself staring up at a wooden column of a slanted roof.

And there was a ghostly memento of someone screaming.

A long, sustained, gut wrenching bawls that he instantly relayed with pain-

_What a superbly crafted house._

His reminiscence was cut short by what he saw. Unlike most of the houses he had been inside of in the Kingdom, the square and rectangular support columns were very finely crafted; it lacked the usual jagged edges from a typical mill. The methods of the inter-joining beams were unlike any he had seen before-

Something was not right.

By the brightness of the light it was well past the morning and yet there were no bells that was supposed to be struck by the hours. There was no clamoring of blacksmiths' hammer striking down against the anvil. No snarling of the creatures on their way to the meat market. No smell of burning hay or simmering charcoals. This peculiar quietness was what unnerved him. And the fabric! His fingers atop of what he presumed to be the bedspread was the silkiest and the most comfortable he had ever worn.

The lack of aches in his joints began to convince him that he was still in the celestial world that Iyo-san brought him into...but everything was not engulf by paleness. An odd sense of deja vu began to set in as he scoured around this decidedly foreign and yet oddly familiar chamber-

Masataka bolted upright. His eyes caught on a contraption just above a small wooden pedestal.

_What in the world!_

When his view was obscured he thought a drape had came down over his head. As he failed to remove the cloth, it was then he realized that the drapery in question was in fact hair - his own, very long hair. It was so long that it pooled around him where he sat. His mind whirled. He stopped wearing long hair when the knighthood was bestowed upon him. Hair and helmets simply did not work. His fingers laced through the long tresses and-

His heart stumbled. Whatever his train of thought evaporated into thin air.

_What in the devil is happening here!_

His eyes fixated on the shuddering left palm that he knew was not supposed to be there - he very palm that he left forever behind at the Battle of the White Pass. He untangled it with his hair and brought it closer with his right hand, examining it like it was an object other than his own. The fingers were trembling slightly and he could felt the tremors running down through to his forearm. Then he felt his eyes widened even more.

_Where are the scars?_

The jagged wart that he garnered in the same campaign that served as the only physical evidence was nowhere in sight. He flipped his right arm over, the pucker hole made by a piercing arrow were also gone. His hand felt for his right torso and sure enough, the blotch of skin blighted by shattering armor was mysteriously absent. The blemishes and disfigurement that once marred his flesh and wore with pride vanished without a trace. Not only that his arms were only half the size than it used to be…and what is this irritating tightness in his muscles? It almost became too much for him to comprehend-

_Could it be possible…?_

He picked up the bedspread that covered his lower body with apprehension. His clumsy fingers undid the thin trouser...

"What the fuck is going on here?" he snorted with bewilderment. His lost testicle was also back where it belonged. Although he knew exactly what happen to it, and the painful memory that it brought about but just like his lost palm, for however inconceivably it might have been, they were back to where they belonged.

His whole body started to shake. Not from a sense of excitement but of immense dread. His greatest fear over the years was that one day, he would wake up just like he was now and everything that he had ever done in the Kingdom will be wipe from existence.

His anger flared. The hands that clamped down on his long strands were gripping so hard, that his nails were digging into this palms. This was not what he wanted. He never once asked for any of this. Masataka was not afraid of death; in fact, over the years he stared at the face of obliteration so many times he even welcomed it on his later years. He fully expected to join his brethren that fell before him when it was his time. But this manner of final libration was definitely not what he had wished for - with nothing to remind him of his past but ghost of whispers that would haunt him for the rest of his life. All that he had accomplished, all the sacrifice he had made, the skills that he acquired; it was all for naught-

The clutch of hair in his right palm sizzled and fumed before his eyes, the splintered locks sprayed over his trouser and sheets. The blue burning flame of his essence, one of his most potent weapons shined ablaze. To his most infinite joy and solace, the Ki Blade morphed its shape according to his explicit will. Dazed. He raised his left shoulder and the mace that he wielded on many battlefields emerged. Only this time, a long, unacquainted warmness flowed through his left hand.

He eased a sigh of relief. Both weapons smothered as it should. So it wasn't for naught after all. With his fear somewhat alleviated. Masataka looked around again. The place seemed decidedly foreign and yet a familiar sense of deja vu washed over him. He tried to recall, perhaps trace his disjointing memory to a place just like it. Everything felt alien, the silky fabric of the bedspread, the satiny trouser, even the aroma in the air.

He was so engrossed in his reveries that he didn't notice that someone had approached and slide open what he thought was a blind.

"Ala, Okida desu-ka?" an old woman appeared by the sliding door and smiled warmly at him.

Masataka recoiled back as if hit by a physical force. He knew that dialect; it felt like eons ago that someone spoke to him in that tongue. He couldn't quite discern what she was saying but that didn't stop him from muttering, "Where am I?"

"Eh!" surprise overtook her features. "Gaijin?" She turned around hastily and ran off, her voice receding. "Anada, anada, otoko no gaijin-desu."

Masataka caught a bit of the dialect, something about being an outsider. His head was getting nauseated with swarm of questions that all sprouted at the same time.

More steps approached and an old man appeared by the open door way. He had a set of spectacles and was examining him with squinting eyes. The woman from earlier peeked from behind his shoulder.

"Nihongo o hanasemasen ka..." the old man cocked his head to one side, "okashii desu ne..." The women nodded in agreement. Masataka got more of it this time. The old couples were wondering why he didn't speak the tongue, but he did. After a moment of awkward silence the old man murmured, "Maybe we should ask for Musashi-san's help with this one..." The woman nodded and quickly left the room.

The old man turned back and eyed Masataka for a brief moment before he sat down next to him with considerable effort, obviously bothered by his age. "You came a long way, son." He sighed with no small relief, his hand massaged over his back. "The closest town is four hours away, we'll see if we can get you some help." the old man smiled at him, and it was just as warm as the old lady that preceded him.

Masataka swallowed with trepidation. It was funny, really. He had faced considerable odds without batting an eye and here he was, afraid to even speak. Granted that it had been a long time before he spoken of the same tongue...

"Whoa-ha...who- are you?" the words cam out frigid and stiff.

The old man's wrinkles deepened as his eyes widened behind his spectacles, his jaw slacked open but only for a moment, and then his face broke out into a delightful grin. "So you do speak Japanese after all."

Masataka didn't answer, he couldn't answer. He was overcome by half a dozen emotions. After so many years, after so many failed attempts, when he nearly given up hope and here he is-

"Do you know where you are?" the old man ventured cautiously, his earlier delight was replaced by concern.

Masataka nodded jerkily, a stray tear ran down his cheek.

"Home."

To Be Continued…

...

Vocabulary:

Shiyawase-dayo = Find happiness, OK?

Ala, Okida desu-ka? = Oh, You have awakened?

Gaijin = Foreigner

Anada, anada, otoko no gaijin-desu = Dear, the youngster is a foreigner.

Nihongo o hanasemasen ka = So you don't speak Japanese

okashii desu ne = How strange


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Phew...now that was a LONG break :P My lack of inspiration was rectified by the release of Tenjou Tenge 134.7 Great many thanks to csad21 for her great editing skill and xxsindixx for bataing this chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 3

Masataka dipped his head again at the departing elders who would not stop bowing to him before turning the corner of the street. He breathed a sigh of relief; the white mist loomed and dissipated just as quickly into the thin morning air. After he'd relieved Mr. and Mrs. Shinobu's aching discomfort as recompense for his stay, word had gotten around quickly. Before long, the neighbors had all come to seek for the "Devine Hand" that was rumored to purge all pains. Masataka allowed himself a small chuckle. It was nothing, really. Anyone with a rudimentary understanding of ki could have achieved the same feat. But from what he had learned, the elderly were all who were left. His gaze followed a flock of birds toward the range of mountains guarding the lone path out of this small hamlet.

Just like in the kingdom, the young traveled great distances for better opportunities in order to support their kin. But that was where the similarity ended. This world, this era he grew up in, everything seemed so distant and unreal to him. These people didn't have to worry about where their next meal would come from. The constant dangers of fiends that lurked beneath the shadows of the wild only existed in fairytales. And the thought of annihilation never crossed anyone's mind. The amenities that this world provided—clean running water, hot water bath, warm and comfortable shelter, exquisite and tasty foods—were things that even the richest nobles could only dreamt of. An ordinary, simple looking noodle soup that Mrs. Shinobu prepared surpassed even the best course that his head chef could muster. The immense disparity between the two worlds, he noted with a sinking realization, was the heart of his discontent.

Masataka wanted to believe that he was sent back here for a purpose. Every morning he asked the boy in the spotless mirror that was now himself, and the same set of weary, haunted eyes stared back at him without answer; not that he didn't deserve it. The forty plus winters that he had spent in the kingdom, all the battles that he had fought safeguarding its people, the frameworks that he'd assisted to better the way of life, and the alliance that he'd helped forge, all these were themselves a testament of his achievements. But what about his most trusted comrades? All those men and women who sweat and bled alongside him, many had sacrificed their lives for what he'd believed to be the best—

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks, enough to draw blood. The pain halted a particular train of thought that he had no desire to revisit. After all, whatever he had done, had not done, or what he wished he could have done had afflicted his every dream. He had no wish to be agonized by the ghosts of his past even in the waking hours.

Masataka's breath shuddered. War Wounds, or the Scars of War; that was what they called it. He had witnessed thousands who bore them. He knew that he had them, ever since the battle of the White Pass, where he'd withstood endless hoards of horrifying Lycans. It was also that field where he'd been baptized by the cruelty and the atrociousness of the kingdom. His eyes trailed down to his fisted left hand; the very one that he had lost, bitten off by the Lycan Queen just as his own sword pierced through her heart. White mist spewed like smolder. Like the rest of his scarless flesh, the pain was the only reminder of his past. No, Masataka corrected himself, fingering over the pucker at the base of his neck. All except this—

"—san? Fakuna-san?"

Masataka blinked. Mrs. Shinobu appeared genuinely worried, standing before him.

"Yes?" He forced a smile on his lips.

"Are you feeling well? Would you like to take a break? I could certainly tell—"

"No, it's all right." Masataka didn't want to deal with any more self-reproach right now. "Just admiring the view, that is all."

The wrinkles on her forehead eased a bit, but she still sounded hesitant. "We don't want to strain you any more than necessary."

"Not at all." He wasn't lying. Ever since his "rebirth"—at least that was what Masataka thought it was—he had found these scrawny, gangly limps held more strength than it appeared. They weld just as much strength as when he was at his prime, if not more. And because of their new form, they became incredibly nimble—many of Shinobu's wreck fixtures were the casualties of this newfound discovery. It had taken the better part of month to get used to the cramps and proper maneuvering. And not to mention his ki, which was nothing less than awe-inspiring. On one of his solo outings into the forest, he'd conjured up more than three dozen ki spheres in one setting—far more than he could ever have managed at any giving time before.

_Perhaps that was the only bright side to all these_, Masataka thought bitterly. Comrades. Friends. People that he'd considered to be part of his family. Gone forever. Even his friends in his era—although his memories of them were hazy—would all be in their sixties and seventies. Who would believe him even if he tried? For all he knew, this could very well be his incarceration: to be doused in grief, consumed by guilt and tormented with nightmares, for the tens of thousands of lives that he'd taken, all in the name of vengeance—

"Fakuna-san?"

Mrs. Shinobu's voice brought him out of his reveries again. Embarrassed, Masataka quickly replied, "Mrs. Sakurada was the last one, right? I will retire for the day right after, I promise." He attempted a full grin, but failed.

She nodded, only half-heartedly, worry written all over her features, and led him back into the house.

.

.

Masataka's hands hovered over the lower back of the old woman, who was having a delightful conversation with Mrs. Shinobu. He infused tiny portion of ki over the afflicted area with a steady, measured pace.

"Mmmm..." Mrs. Sakurada hummed in gratification, "that was...wonderful, it was...I am at a lost for word."

"Isn't it? When the first time Fakuna-san tried it on me..."

Masataka grounded his teeth, trying very hard to suppress a snort that he knew would only cause embarrassment for Mrs. Shinobu. No one could seem to pronounce his name correctly, Mr. and Mrs. Shinobu included. And up to this day he still couldn't fathom his reservation for not telling them his true name. When Mr. Shinobu had asked for his name, without a second thought, he had uttered:

Falkner von Reinhart

The name that Lord Vayne had given him as a commemoration after the Battle of the Falconeer Ridge. He had carried it ever since. Only a very small group of friends knew differently.

"—name is so unique. It sounded so just like the name on that weird commercial," he heard Mrs. Sakurada say.

"Weird? Really? What was that commercial about?" Mrs. Shinobu wondered.

"Oh, you didn't see it? It was all over the news. NHK even had a special investigation about it. It has been broadcasting worldwide every day for almost two months. And you know what is really interesting? It was spoken in some sort of old Germanic language and a picture of a flag that they can't find anywhere in the world."

"How very peculiar indeed. You said that it sounded very much like Fakuna-san's—"

"Yeah, Fakuna von Raienhado."

Masataka stilled his hand movement. Although he didn't pay much mind to the entire conversation, he didn't remember his full name being ever mentioned by—

"Fakuna-san!" Mrs. Shinobu exclaimed excitedly. "It could be your family looking for you."

Masataka's brows furrowed. Since he didn't know how to explain where he had come from, he'd told the Shinobus that he had no recollection of his past. There shouldn't—wouldn't—be anyone looking for him. By now Mrs. Sakurada had gotten up, and Mrs. Shinobu was filling her in excitingly.

"Kyoko, what is this commotion about?" Mr. Shinobu walked in through the front door, smiling. "I can hear you from all the way out there..." The old man's smile faded after a brief explanation by the now two enthralled women. "But we don't have a television."

"We can go to—" Mrs. Shinobu started.

"It's on radio, too." Mrs. Sakurada's eyes lit up. "I've told you, it's all over the place!"

"Come on, dear, let's go turn the radio on," Mrs. Shinobu urged.

Masataka watched the trio in silence. His mind raced feverishly through all the possibilities that he could think of, but nothing rang true. When Mr. Shinobu's perplexed eyes met his, he simply nodded his assent and followed them into the next room.

.

.

.

His heart leapt when the message finally started. It took Mr. Shinobu ten minutes of fumbling before they caught it. And it was unmistakably the Tongue.

"Falkner von Reinhart, if you hear this message, go to the nearest telephone and dial this number: zero-one-one, eight-one, three-four-five-seven-eight-nine-two-four-eight. Repeat, dial this number at your nearest telephone, zero-one-one—"

Masataka asked for the telephone, and as if on cue, Mr. Shinobu picked up a small bundle and waited. It took Masataka a few moments to realize that he himself didn't know how to do it, and recited the numbers with flushed cheeks.

Mr. Shinobu listened to the phone after he dialed in the digits. His eyes widened after a few tense moments, and he handed it to Masataka in a flurry.

"Yes?" A female answered with testiness.

"Who is this?" Masataka asked cautiously, not knowing what to expect.

The handset went quiet for a moment. "What is the capital of Aurelia?" the same voice asked, although her pronunciations were off and stiff.

"Meridian," he replied without thinking, realizing that he should not have done it so quickly. But the question continued.

"Which imperial general caused you great harm at the temple of Dark Resurrection?"

The mention of that event caused him to wince involuntarily, but he steeled his nerve. "General Sasobaski of the Imperial 5th Legion." That name would be etched in his memory until his death.

"Wait," she said.

"How did you—" Masataka couldn't hold it anymore. Just when he was about to demand an answer from whoever it was, he heard a click, and a weird buzzing sound came from the other side of the handset.

After another click, a deep, male voice came on. "Who is this?"

"Who is THIS?" Masataka asked in return, not answering the question. The manner in which the man spoke was fluent, and it held an imperial accent.

The handset went quiet for a moment. "Lord Falkner von Reinhart, I presume?" the voice leered.

"Who the fuck is this?" Masataka was really irritated by now; he did not, and would not play games with the Imperials.

"Patience, my young lord," the voice said deliberately. "No amount of explanation will convince you over this contraption. May I suggest that we convene in person for my vindication? Here is the place..."

.

.

.

.

Masataka stood before the giant archway of what appeared to be a shrine of some sort.

Meiji Jingu.

That was what the taxi driver had said when the man read the address that Mr. Shinobu had handed over.

He looked down at the delicate pocket watch that Mr. Shinobu had given him. Masataka couldn't help but sigh. The tear-jerking farewell from the villagers had been especially awkward for him. For the short period of time that he'd dwelled, the elders were already treating him as one of their own. They'd pooled a large sum of currency for him after learning his determination to make the rendezvous.

His thumb gently stroked over the intricate impression on the silver object, recalling Mr. Shinobu's words to him.

"Take this, son." Mr. Shinobu folded the silver object into his hand. "Your being here is the greatest gift that we could have asked for." He gaze at Masataka with affection through his oily spectacles. "You have alleviated much of the discomfort that plagued us throughout the years. All that we ask...all that _I_ ask, is that you come back to see us from time to time. I dare not ask what your purpose is; one does not question a gift from God. But wherever your destination may be, please remember us in a corner of your heart, as we will remember you—"

Masataka gritted his teeth and suppressed the next sigh that was about to come. He had to meet this person from his own time, reminiscences could wait. But his steps faltered slightly and he snorted. This was supposed to be his own time. He pressed onward, forcing those distracting thoughts away.

.

.

.

.

.

The middle age man regarded him with keen eyes, and Masataka was doing the same. The man looked to be no more than fifty, sixty years old even with that sparse and receding hairline. With unremarkable size and build, the man did not have any notable features that would provoke a recollection from his past, but then it quickly dawned on him that if this man had gone through a "rebirth" like himself, his appearance wouldn't mean much of anything. Only one way to find out—

"You are just a pup," the man murmured, in Tongue, with an unmistakable imperial accent. He sounded both incredulous and amazed at the same time.

Masataka bit back whatever he was about to say. His mind whirled. Not only did this man know him, they'd probably also met in person back then. And judging from his reaction, he was definitely not part of the alliance. That only left a few possibilities, and none of them were welcome.

"How long have you been in the kingdom?" The curiosity was genuine.

"More than forty winters," Masataka replied. Although he had a thousand questions that he wanted to throw at the man, something made him hold his tongue.

"And how long ago since your incursion into the Dark Temple?"

Masataka took half a step toward the mystery man, his eyes narrowed. "Are you one of Sasobaski's?" There were only a handful of people that had taken part in that endeavor, and even fewer had lived to tell the tale, thanks in no small part to the insidious Imperials. The fought out party had been ambushed, and had lost more than half of their numbers. But before they could be finished off, the Imperials had retreated. Many years later, even after he'd exacted his vengeance, Masataka had wondered why that was.

Without answering the question, the man sneered at Masataka, "Do you mean to tell me that you were the very same Falkner that united the ragtag mobs of Aurelia? The callous young lord that singlehandedly marshaled the alliance along the Fringe? The hero at the Battle of the Balboa Gate that turned folklore into legend?" He snorted, and then his eyes tore into Masataka's. "If only I had half of your...no, a quarter of your fighting prowess, I would have transformed the kingdom into..." He suddenly stopped, and his eyes appeared infinitely weary. "I am Kaiser—"

"...von Tresckow," Masataka seethed, finishing what the man could not. He must have anticipated Masataka's outburst, for the man raised his ki barrier, though it was far too feeble and sluggish. In less than a split second he had pinned the imperial emperor down on the ground with a death claw at his throat, and the tip of the Ki Blade searing through his flesh.

Stunned and dazed, however, the emperor was not a bit fazed by his impending doom. Instead, ignoring the obvious pain, a taunting smirk began to form on the corner of his lips. "If you must kill me, Falkner, " von Tresckow wheezed, "just know that the future of Aurelia lies in your hands."

The man bore no resemblance at all as the tyrant of the imperium that he'd met only once in the past. But Masataka believed who he claimed to be, not because of his command of the Tongue, or the knowledge of his past, nor even the threat against Aurelia, but because of his eyes. The intense, piercing stares that only belonged to those of the kingdom—

Von Tresckow grunted in pain as Masataka's fist came crashing down hard on the side of the man's face. It split open a deep gash on his cheek, and the blood splattered most of the face. The man struggled in vain to break free from him, but that only furthered Masataka's grip on the throat.

Masataka could feel the man's life been drain beneath his fingers; the hands that were beating frantically grew sluggish, the laboring gasps he was trying to gain, the reddening flush of his visage, and lastly, the tumbling white of his eyes. In just a few more moments he would be able to avenge for the many innocent that this man had helped slaughter...

Von Tresckow started coughing and gulping for air at the same time. Masataka stepped back and watched on, not with satisfaction, but an overwhelming sense of remorse for not killing him when he should.

Y-You…you fucking lunatic!" von Tresckow cried, as loud as he could with his raw, fragmented voice, but quickly doubled over and start coughing violently. "Ca…can you not use your fu…fucking head for a second?" von Tresckow snapped at him in between breaths. The blood staining face did make him look rather ungraceful.

"You are still breathing, are you not?" Masataka tilted his head to one side, mock-innocently.

Von Tresckow swallowed painfully and was still cursing at him. "If I wanted to get myself killed, do you think that I would have spent all that effort just so I could find you and beg to have my fucking neck broken off?" Von Tresckow winced when his hand came up to the now purple bruises around his neck. "I should have heeded Waechter's forewarning about you—"

"Which Waechter?" Masataka's eyes narrowed.

"Who else? The one and only—"

"What did you do to him!" Masataka advanced until he was towering over the man, causing von Tresckow to stumble away in fright.

"Nothing! I didn't do anything to him! He was the one who pointed me to find yo—"

Masataka grabbed him by his lapels and hauled him off the ground in a swift motion, his face inches away from his intended prey. "There is nothing to stop me from shacking you like a small animal and fracture every bone in your body," Masataka snarled. Von Tresckow flinched at his words. "Why would he even help you?" The joints in his hands cracked under the tremendous force.

"Because we were on the same archeology project!"

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Masataka trudged deliberately on the stone slab, his footing perched on each and every flagstone that shaped the path. His thumb ran over the knuckles of his newly regained hand as he tried desperately to sort through the torrent of emotions and newfound knowledge.

Kobayashi Tanabe, a former student of the Tokyo Imperial University who was assigned to an ultra secret project toward the end of the last great war, in hopes of overturning the tide that was about to befall this nation, had gone through the ancient portal in search of great power. But instead, it had brought great calamity to the ones that ventured forth. Just like what had happened to Aya—

Masataka steeled his nerves. The thought alone still brought chill to his spine to this day, and he abandoned that particular thought right away...

Half of Kobayashi's party had become soulless vessels—mindless bodies that hold no intellect, possessing only the basic instinct of wild beasts. More than half of their numbers had been decimated within the first few weeks by the brutality that was the kingdom. The best account that Kobayashi could offer for the mindlessness was that without the Sacred Stone—a gem that held enormous Ki and Mana properties—ones soul would simply be separated from the body without the Sacred Stone as a medium through the portal. Some were lucky, but others...

Masataka sighed heavily and glanced over at the man who was now tending bitterly at his broken lips and flesh. The same man who used to command legions upon legions of imperial troops, now deposed, overthrown by the very domain that he'd helped foster. Betrayed by the people that he had the most faith in upholding his legacy, people that he would call family.

What Kobayashi had said was the truth. He had no reason to come this far just so he could lie to him. By now the man must know how easily Masataka could beat him to a pulp without much of an effort, and yet he'd risked his very life, knowing the numbers of vicious, bloody trails that they'd left when they'd crossed paths before.

Masataka hated to admit it, but he now had the utmost respect for the man. He'd only spent forty-some winters in the kingdom and he was already exhausted, consumed to the core. This old man before him had endured hundreds—if the numbers he claimed was believable; and Masataka had no other means to contradict him. Seven hundred plus winters of brutalities from the kingdom! Starting over from scratched each time they returne.

It might even be remotely possible that this man, along with Masataka's savior and mentor, the great wizard Waechter, now to be known as Fujimura Sato, had helped shape the kingdom into what it was when Masataka had first emerged from the portal when becoming the Gate Keeper. Like the story of two quarreling deities, each endeavored toward what they believed to be more fitting for the people they gathered. Kobayashi believed in structure, whereas Fujimura had his faith in free will.

Although their methods were polar opposites, their goals were one and the same.

"To be honest, Falkner," Kobayashi said, wincing painfully through bloody teeth, "I really don't give a shit about what happened to Aurelia. All I care about...all I need your help on, is restoring the peace and safeguarding my charge—that is, my people, the citizens of the empire."

And Weachter, no, Masataka corrected himself, Fujimura, would have told him the very same if he were present.

And that begged only one question.

"Kobayashi." Masataka purposely avoid addressing him with his imperial lineage. "Tell me again why we couldn't leave for the kingdom now?"

One side of his face was swollen so badly that whatever he said came out like mumbles and disjointed. Realizing this, Kobayashi stopped the futile effort and was visibly fuming.

Masataka sighed again, for the countless time today, walked in front of the man and slapped him across where it hurt the most.

"Fuck!" Kobayashi screamed in anger. "If you touch me one more time with your hands you might as well—" His outburst died mid-sentence, and his hand came up to feel the cut and bruises that were no longer there. "Oh."

Masataka exhaled slowly and waited until the man recovered enough sense to realize that an answer needed to be given.

"Every time the portal was traversed," Kobayashi was still fondling and prodding his cheek, "there was a limited time of no more than two hours from which to make any subsequence pass. And after that a cycle of at least seventy-four days must be attained before the next passage. We are—"

"When?" Masataka growled impatiently.

"Four nights. Four nights from tonight."

"Where?"

"There." Kobayashi pointed to the building behind them, his eyes sparkled. "There is a portal that we could use in the Treasure Museum."

"And how do I know this is not some sort of elaborate scheme to finally get rid of me by trapping my soul in the portal?" Masataka couldn't help but ask.

Kobayashi blinked and started laughing almost hysterically. "You do not," Kobayashi answered, still laughing, "but, my young lord, the choice to enter the portal is entirely yours. Plus," he produced an item in his hand, "you must know what this is?"

Masataka nodded, his eyes locked on the Sacred Stone. The pulsating waves of ki and mana emanating from the black orb prompted the return of dark memories.

"Keep it."

Kobayashi's eyebrow arched, but he obliged without further words. "Until then, Lord Falkner."

Masataka watched his former nemesis disappear into the growing shadows of dusk and whispered, "Old geezer," his eyes turned toward the setting sun, wishing fervently that his most trusted confidant, his old mentor, would be here to answer his question. "Why didn't you tell me this before? What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

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To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: It was a looooong break indeed The highly anticipated Tanjou Tenge 2 never materialized, which all in itself was a giant disappointment for me. In addition, I've lost both of my betas so please have mercy when it comes to my grammar.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tenjou Tenge in any way or form.

Recommendation: For best viewing pleasure, set your width to ½.

Chapter 4

"Thank you, Erika." Natsume Maya handed the docket back to her secretary with a wan smile and finish up typing the e-mail that she was about to send off to one of their contractors. She turned her attention back on to her keyboard just as Erika exited the office with a soft click of the door. She spared a glance at the digital clock down at the corner of the screen, mentally denoted her next appointment. Although the day had gotten off to a frantic start since this morning but things couldn't have gone any better than it already was.

The wedding consultant had just called and informed her that the reception caterer had the desert finished and was working on the main course. The florist had finalized the site decoration and the wedding cake had been delivered as scheduled. Her own staff had confirmed that guests were being pickup at pre-arranged locations en-route to the ceremony. And she was meeting her hair stylist and makeup artist for the first time in her life for just one person.

It was for the person that she cared about the most in this world. The person that Maya sworn on her dead brother's grave that she would protect, the only other living descendant of the Natsume family, her beloved younger sister - Natsume Aya. Who went missing for a year after that terrible battle with the Demon God...

Her rapid keystroke ceased mid stride, the e-mail dialog on her screen seemed to be fading into the background...

_No!_

Her hand balled into a fist. She would not do this today. Today out of all days should be a joyous one. That fateful day three years ago was a miracle. Not a single life was lost when the world banded together...

Her thought trailed off again. It was not true, it was not true at all. The world owed it to one man's courage and his sheer will. It was through this man's love for Aya that the world averted destruction. It was through him, Takayanagi Masataka, that she had lived to this day.

Maya loathed the younger man at first. For he had singlehandedly defiled her honor to fulfill her duty as the descendent of the Natsume Family. She was supposed to forfeit her life that Souichiro's mother, Makiko selflessly entrusted to her, along with the power of Amateratsu's Dragon Gate by becoming the instrument to vanquish the Demon God. She understood her duty when Makiko revived her from her comatose state. She was ready, even privileged, to have offered her life in order to end the Thousand Year War. Weeks leading to the final confrontation, she established her will, bided farewells in her subtle ways to friends and family. She made all the preparations, mentally and physically, only to have the rug pulled from under her feet at the very last second.

The younger Takayanagi, without revealing his own agenda, succeeded in luring the Demon God onto himself, thus, sparing Souichiro from his ultimate demise. He also took away Maya's power, the inherited curse. The last thing she remembered before loosing consciousness was Aya's shrieking cry and her leaping silhouette into the blinding light.

Her contempt for the young Takayanagi eventually abated after months of soul searching. Although her duty and honor was ruined by the younger man, she had finally accepted that he did it through his steadfast conviction and unyielding devotion for Aya's happiness.

It was during that most trying times, when the purpose of her life was all but ripped away from her, that one person, Nagi Souichiro stayed by her side through and through, until she was able to find her footing again. Maya ignored his feeling for her ever since she knew about them, knowing full well that Aya's obsession with him even on their first meeting. But with Aya and Masataka gone, Souichiro became the closest link that she had to them. To further complicate the matter, Mitsuomi, the older brother to Masataka, wished to rekindle their relationship again.

The time that she had with Mitsuomi could be one of her fondest - had her brother Shin not gone berserk, and had Mitsuomi not killed her brother and gone to the other side against her crusade. After her brother's death, Maya became Mistuomi's primary rival when it comes to people who possessed special powers, namely the individuals with the Dragon Gate. Mitsuomi's newly formed Enforcement Group hunted down and prosecuted those with the unique ability, whereas Maya's Juken Club protected and neutralized those with the Dragon Gate. Their clashes finally brought their paths together, but their pride as a warrior, their honor as the leader of their respective group prevented them from overcoming their differences. During one of the pivotal battle against Shohaku's number one henchman, Maya was fatally wounded because Mitsuomi refused to concede, in what he thought was for the best interest of the Enforcement Group.

Now years later, even after the end of the War. Maya still could not overcome what she considered to be the ultimate act of betrayal between two lovers. Even though she understood fully the reason behind his action.

Her relationship with them went back and forth, despite her fervent attempt to the contrary. One day, exactly one year and twenty-three days after her disappearance, her baby sister came back to them. It was both the happiest and the most painful day of her life. When Aya had finally awakened from days of unexplained high fevers, the first person that she asked for was Souichiro. And it was right there and then that Maya decided to end her dalliance with him.

Souichiro resisted at first. But finally he relented, knowing better than going against her wish when it comes to Aya's well-being, as well as the apparent continuation her and Mitsuomi's romance. It had been two years since...

The intercom on her desk buzzed, blinked her out of her reveries. She dabbed at her eyes and pressed the dial.

"Natsume," she answered, clearing her throat.

"This is Oda...with security." The man sounded somewhat...hesitanted?

One of Maya's brows arched in amazement, as the chief of security for the Takayanagi tower, Oda was a veteran and had demonstrated time and again to be a competent and decisive leader, there shouldn't be too many things that would put off the man.

"Go ahead, Oda-san." Maya was suddenly very inclined to find out what it was.

"Ma'am," he began but caught himself. If Maya were present at where he is at right now, that slight stutters would had her bare witness to a flush and embarrasses Oda, which in itself would had been a sight to behold. It was also due to the fact that Maya made the world known her annoyance to be constantly referring to as Mistuomi's woman.

"Natsume-san, we have a possible code forty-seven in progress," Oda's hesitant voice came through the intercom.

Maya frowned. They had standard protocol for this type of occurrences. Ever since their disappearance, the Takayanagi family posted enormous bounty for the finding of the two missing warriors. Tens of thousands of impostors flooded in, all came for the handsome rewards. The bounty was eventually cancelled, after her sister was recovered two years ago. And the numbers of cases had diminished to virtually zero since. Oda and his team had becoming experts for dispatching them, why the perplexity?

"Aneki," the use of her honorific unsettled her. "We need help with this one."

"On my way." Maya pushed away from her desk and headed toward the elevator. Whoever this was, apparently gave more trouble than even Oda could handle. Her lips twisted into a thin smile. Perfect timing, Maya thought, it would be a perfect excuse to rid some of her anxieties for the wedding. She just hopes this time it would last longer then a minute.

.

.

.

Oda was there to greet her at the basement. Maya took the tablet that he offered and started gliding through the various reports with her finger as they were walking toward "the room." But her steps faltered when she skimmed to the next report.

"This...have you verify the result?" Maya couldn't believe what she was seeing on the screen.

"We ran the test twice," Oda replied firmly. "But..."

Maya's eyes strayed away from the DNA report and met his troubling gaze. She was speechless. The report indicated that this person's genetic materials show a ninety-seven percent resemblance to Masataka's sample on file. It was very unnerving for Oda to became this disturb, after all he had been serving the Takyanagi family for more then a decade and he had also participated in the battle against the Demon God.

"What is it?" She prompted gently.

"He...he is not the Masataka-sama that we know..." Oda gulped with effort, "And he...he requested for the knowledge on how to build a dam."

"Requested? A Dam?" Her brow arched but Oda nodded. Every single one that came forth and claimed to be the missing Takayanagi had all came for the same reason - the vast wealth that the Takayanagi family fostered for hundreds of years. But this person who matched almost exactly to Masataka genetically request for something that was unheard of before.

_Wait! Did Oda just called that person Masataka-sama? _

But she didn't have the heart to further burden the already troubled man. She resumed her steps with Oda in tow. One way or another, she would find out soon enough.

.

.

.

.

Maya stood rooted to the marble floor. Her eyes were as wide as it had ever been. Now she knew why Oda was having such difficulties. From the darken control room, on the other side of the one-way mirror, sat the man that had denied her of duty, stripped her of honor, and yet, had lingered in and out of her thoughts for the past three years.

This Masataka wore his hair a lot shorter than she remembered. It was cropped short from the side and the back, much like a brush cut but slight longer, it reminded her of Souichiro's before the Demon God possessed him at the Takayanagi Tower. The same set of long, curvy, almost feminine brows rest neatly atop of his shrouded eyes. The lightly convex nose, coupled with a thin, gently downcast lips and not to mention that heart shape chin with the strong jawline. The stale, coarse looking, kimono dress made Masataka look almost comical in it - sitting unperturbedly on a lone chair surrounded by phalanx of guards. The entire scene looked like a bad case of practical joke.

A torrent of chaotic emotions suddenly coursed through her vein. She knew she should had been happy, ecstatic even, to have their most trusted comrade, the man who singlehandedly ended the Thousand Year War back to their ranks. But the memory of her darkest days reared its spiteful head on her conscience. It reminded her what this man had put her through. A surge of white-hot fury swathed aside all other sentiment. She wanted him to acknowledge her suffering; she wanted to inflict the same amount of agony on him as she had endured.

"Leave us." May intoned coldly.

"But-" Oda began.

"I said leave us," her tone brooked no argument this time. Maya knew Oda and his men would be stationed outside just like they should but that was the furthest thing from her mind.

She waited until she heard the soft click behind her and the guards filed away from the adjacent room before she strode into the room with reinforced, padded wall and glared at the younger man.

"Did you kn-" the angry words stalled, the boiling rage evaporated into the silent room. She was ready to scold him senseless for showing up in this manner and for all the sufferings that he had put her through. But when Masataka unveiled his eyes, Maya reeled back as if she was hit by an invisible force.

His once lucid, unfaltering amber eyes that she remembered so well was no where in sight, instead, she was pinned by a pair of dull and lifeless gray that seemed to stare beyond her. The hollowness in them resembled much of the Thousand-Yard Stare with her psychology study at the university. For a split second she thought that this man in front was Sohaku reincarnated, blighted by the dark essence of the Demon God. But she quickly realized that was not the case. Even without her Amateratu's Dragon Gate, which was taken away by this very man, she still retained the ability to perceive dark influence, no matter how small the trace. This man was not corrupted. With her initial fear quenched and her anger dissipated, she was suddenly at a lost as where to begin...

"Are you in command here?" His words startle her. It was his voice, but huskier, laced with infinite weariness.

"Do you not know who I am?" Maya asked in return, her brows furrowed. Oda's apprehension replayed in her mind.

_He is not the Masataka-sama that we knew._

Their eyes met and held. It took Maya a great deal of willpower not to avert her gaze from the cold hollowness. Then his eyes blinked, tiny sparkles of green and golden brown gradually saturated the insipid gray, a speck of recognition in his eyes.

"Natsume...Maya.."

Her brows furrowed deeper. He had not called her by the title since his acceptance into the Juken Club. He always addressed her as the Club Captain, even after he was out of the academy. What is happening with him?

A strange glint of light flashed across his orbs, then his features visibly tightened. "Is Aya...well?" Masataka asked in a deliberate manner.

May scowled at him. She could see the tensions in his shoulders, the molding veins on his neck and the slight shiver of his jawline. He knew what happen to her baby sister.

"What happen to Aya? Why didn't she remember anything?" Maya demanded, her anger was flaring back up again.

"Nothing?" His feature went visibly pale, his lips quivered in distress.

Her eyes flared. She grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him out of his chair, their face inches apart. "What have you done to her?" Maya growled dangerously, "Why was a year of her memory gone?"

Masatka's eyes widened in surprise but then it narrowed and refocused, comprehension gradually overtook his once panic stricken features.

At this distance Maya was momentarily dazzled by the swirls of emotions in his eyes. As the pain and despair gradually obscured all others, she could only stare mutedly at the soul that was etched by untold tribulation and wretchedness. It was almost too much to bear. But Maya dared not remove her gaze from the spectacles of hazel light. She was afraid that if she did, all the life that she had seen so far would be drained away, leaving this man desolated. And without knowing exactly why, his face began to blur into silhouette as hot tears wetted her cheeks.

His blur outline receded from her view when the fabrics slipped away from her slackened grips and she wipe at her tears in a fluster...and was greeted by the same dullness that she now despised.

"I did whatever that was needed to sent her back," the tone of cold indifference was perfect match to his eyes.

"Did you know that you have deprived me of my honor?" Maya whispered. She noted offhandedly that she had somehow accepted those mere words as his explanation for what happen to Aya. But right now, more than anything else, she wanted to be acknowledged by this man.

Their gaze never left one another. For a brief moment, Maya thought he wouldn't respond to her accusation.

"So you'll rather let your love ones suffer?" he sneered coldly at her.

Maya blinked at that. "But...but it was my duty-" she caught herself and answered in a rush fluster.

"Do not," Masataka's cold gaze hardened and his voice growled with a quiet intensity, "Mingle honor with duty." His piercing stare torn through her heart, "Never let anyone else other than yourself decide how to live your life, no matter how righteous they were." The raging ferocity suddenly diminished just as quickly as it cam, along with his features. "There is no honor in death, Natsume-san. The greatest honor to life is for you to live it to the fullest," the last few words was nothing but a hoarse hiss.

As if these mere words were his answers to the countless questions she had yet to ask, Masataka turned on his heels and headed toward the door.

"Masataka-kun wait," she rasped, then a afterthought hit her, she had never called him that in the past.

His steps never faltered.

"Aya's wedding is today," Maya blurted out, not knowing what else she could say make him stay.

His lanky frame came to a standstill, but he didn't turn, waiting.

"Aya would very much loved to have you be the guest of honor at her ceremony," Maya uttered quickly, her heart pounding. The thought of him leaving became so intolerable that she was willing to do anything, anything to make him stay. "And after, I will help you with what you need," she hesitated only slightly, "Whatever at all."

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He couldn't help but smiled at the beaming young bride, who was adorned, in his opinion the most stunning gown imaginable, walked past before his very eyes, a sight that he had dreamed, wished for. At his unyielding insistence, they made his return and presence largely unknown. Disguised as members of the security detail, it gave Masataka the vista unlike any others.

Alive and vibrant, with gleaming eyes for the future, Aya walked on hand-in-hand with Maya-san, acting as both the Father of the Bride and as Made-of-Honor, who he dipped his head for a sincere, genuine gratitude.

Maya returned it with an un-perceptible nod, but the twinkles and the curves at the corner of her lips were unmistaken.

His eyes followed the two women from behind the dark but unclouded spectacles, and his smile faded. _How fitting, _Masataka sighed, letting it out slow and even_._ The happiest day of his life, the wedding of his beloved, felt strangely like a funeral. The verses of the clergyman as it been read sounded so much like an eulogy, for him.

No, he was beyond jealousy or resentment, especially now when he was old enough to be his father. As much as Masataka wanted to, his relationship with Aya never went beyond that of a close comrades, or siblings, at least for Aya.

His eyes strayed and landed on the groom, and Masataka almost snorted out loud. Although he had nothing against the younger man, but if memory serves, he couldn't help but still label him as a little punk - a punk that Aya had chosen over him. He sighed again; perhaps it was how it felt to have your daughter merry another man, Masataka reflected with bitter amusement. And that couldn't be further away from the truth.

Once Masataka realized what had happen to her - a mute and soulless doll after she came through the portal, he took care of her. Like a dutiful brother that he was, her well being, her every need was at the forefront of his every thought. Every decision that he made, every life that he had forsaken was to bring her back to this world. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Aya was the center of his universe, and she still was. Even years after her Sending, she was never far away from his thought.

_This must be the gift that Iyo-san had mentioned in his dream_, Masataka reflected. In a single day, not only did he put to the rest the greatest fear that had haunted him for so long - that Aya would returned as the same soulless vessel as she did in the Kingdom. Masataka was also able to endorse his effort to fruition in person, knowing that she was safe and sound with the man that she loves.

_Was it worth it?_ An inner voice leered at him.

He clenched his jaw as a crashing wave of regret doused over him, causing his breathe to hitch.

He blinked back the tears that blurred the scene before him. When he refocused again, the ghosts of his past, those of him loved, those that loved him, hated him, despised him, friends and foes alike appeared in droves before his eyes. As the eulogy continued, the assembly of guests, of which many he could not named, blended with the ones that had etched in his memory.

"Do you, Nagi Souichiro, take Natsume Aya, to be your wedded wife..."

Masataka closed his eyes, the beautifully orchestrated words faded into the background. The vows that he made to her those many years ago, in that abandoned, desecrated chapel resonated in his heart.

"Do you, Natsume Aya, take Nagi Souichiro, to be your wedded husband..."

He had waited forty years for this moment, forty years for this closure and they were all here to pay their respect.

_Have I kept my promise?_ He asked, praying for an answer.

"Yes," Aya chirped delightedly.

He opened his eyes in time to watch the married couple cement their joining with a sweet but chaste kiss on their lips. The hall erupted in cheers as the attending guest offered their best wishes with their standing ovations.

Masataka's lips twisted into a grimace. He closed his eyes once again, savoring the moment one last time before turning sharply on his heels, pushing the heavy double door open.

_Yes, it was._

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To Be Continued...


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